Animus Furandi
by Moving Forward
Summary: AU - Picks up at 2x09 Queen of Hearts. Hook finds his bid for revenge may be more complicated than anticipated, and that petty larceny has never been more fun. Meanwhile, Emma tries to untangle his rapidly shifting allegiances in time to save Storybrooke- and not lose her heart in the process.


_"He that is robbed, not wanting what is stol'n, Let him not know't, and he's not robbed at all."- Othello_

_**Animus Furandi**_

The fog over Storybrooke Harbor parted slowly, giving Captain Hook a clearer view of the town through his spyglass. He was perched on the hatch of his ship with Cora, having sent the crew below to make sure the rockier-than-anticipated landing in the cold New England waters had not done any damage. He smiled, making out the clock tower above the town.

Time was marching, steady as it liked. He watched the minute hand move for a moment. A man could get used to the measured tempo of a clock, after long years of no time at all. It lent a kind of rhythm, a pacing, to his final bid for revenge. This should be fun.

He moved his gaze lower to Regina's sleepy little town. Somewhere, perhaps in a building he could see now, a coward of a crocodile was hiding away. Emma had spoken of him, though she often called him Mr. Gold.

Almost subconsciously, his eyes swept the street and dock, hoping to catch a bright glint of blonde. His heart rate picked up, anticipation making him feel electric. He assured himself it was because they were nearly there, his revenge nearly complete.

And if _there_ happened to be where he'd be bound to run in to Emma Swan, well… he had never been interested in denying himself the pleasure of sharp company. This should be very fun indeed.

"There it is." He cried, squinting a bit in the sunlight.

"Storybrooke," his companion confirmed. He could detect a thread of excitement through Cora's usually desultory voice. Twenty-eight years they had waited, and suddenly the quiet town they had worked so hard to find was close enough to see.

Overcome with a burst of pent-up energy, Hook jumped off the hatch to take the steps to the quarter deck two at a time. He grabbed the wheel as they slowly drew closer to the harbor, his gaze focused on the distinctive clock tower, willing it closer by the second. Closer to his cold revenge. Closer, he somehow knew in his bones, to his destiny.

"C'mere you," he breathed.

As if in answer, a startlingly sharp crack echoed back to him. Instinct and long experience had him ducking behind the helm. When no ammunition made for his head, he warily stood to full height, eyes casting about for the source of the sound.

"What was that?" he yelled down to Cora.

She was still on the deck, her posture tense. She tilted her head slightly as if listening intently, but the ship was quiet again. Furrowing her high brow, she stepped to the railing and looked out over the water. The mist was rolling in again, the waves no longer snapping with sunlight.

"I don't know," she called back, never taking her gaze from the mist.

"Well, keep your bloody eyes peeled," he was all captain now, alert and moving. "We're closer now than we've ever been, the last thing we need is-"

Suddenly, the shriek of splitting wood rent the air, pops and cracks accompanying in ominous percussion until Hook's ears filled with the sounds of shattering boards. The ship groaned as it tipped and turned hard in the water. Using his hook, he caught at the rapidly spinning wheel, bracing the thing with his body weight. Thundering footsteps joined the melee as the crew rushed up from below deck.

"Cap'n, what've we got?" shouted a leathery man rushing up the stairs toward Hook. The rest of the crew spread out across the deck, looking for the source of impact. Cora stumbled forward and clutched the stairway railing, trying to keep her balance as Hook spun the wheel hard to starboard.

"I think we've hit something," Hook shouted at his first mate, "Brigs, get up to the bow- tell me what you see."

The man took off toward the front of the ship. Cora continued to cautiously make her way up the stairs toward Hook, bracing herself against the still rolling deck.

"You alright, then?" He assessed her quickly, making sure she was still in one piece, which other than looking uncharacteristically disheveled, she seemed to be. He had no great love for the witch queen, but to have come so far just to lose his only assistance in revenge against the Crocodile would be a bitter pill indeed.

"I'm fine," she said, dismissing his question with a regal, if shaky, flick of the wrist. Satisfied, his attention turned back to steadying the ship, but she was not done with him yet. She fixed him with an accusatory glare, and slapped her palm down on the wheel. "What the devil is going on, Killian?" she hissed. "Can you not see how far we are from Storybrooke? I am not about to watch years of planning backfire through trouble with your waterlogged pile of planks."

He narrowed his eyes, frankly offended by her implication. But, before a retort could roll off his silver tongue, Brigs was back before them. Panting, he reported that the bowspirit was nearly completely shattered, and that the port-side hull was damaged.

"Cap'n it's like we hit summat big n' tall," he narrated with his hands. "Glanced off it, like. But there ain't a thing in the water. It's free n' clear into the harbor, sir."

The ship finally settled from its rocking as they began to move parallel to Storybrooke. Hook released the helm to the first-mate and paced the deck, pausing only to kick at a stray mop bucket.

Something big and tall and… invisible?

Here, in the land without magic? The land he was promised harbored not a drop, not a wisp of magic to aid the Dark One's defense. Now he was not only affronted, but angry. Running his hand through his hair, he spun to Cora.

"This couldn't just be easy, could it?" he laughed, mirth not reaching his eyes. He approached her slowly, invading her space, until his hook rested on her collarbone. "What is this, Cora, hmm? Is this magic?" She met his hard gaze steadily.

"I don't know," she said.

"You don't know? You don't know!?" he spat on the deck. Spinning away he gestured grandly at the open water to the coast. "My ship just hit a bloody great, what? Invisible iceberg? Seawall? It's anyone's guess because I can't _see_ the blasted thing. Are you telling me you're not sure that's magic?"

He stopped shouting then, because the ship began to roll violently as a great scraping sound came from the bow again.

"_Excellent_, there it is again." Digging his hook into the railing to regain some balance, he turned his attention to his first-mate, "Hold her steady, man! The old girl's had enough- we're in no hurry to make port until we figure out what the hell is going on."

Cora recovered enough to pull her shoulders back and faced Hook squarely. "I told you, there isn't magic in this land. Or shouldn't be."

"Shouldn't be?" He waved his arms incredulously. "I'm banking on a distinct _lack_ of magic, here. It's the only reason I agreed to this god forsaken plan in the first place."

"Well," She glanced over her shoulder to the town, barely visible now through the fog, "it is possible that once my daughter's curse was broken, magic could begin to seep into this world." As the boat once again settled, she crossed to where he leaned against the railing and pulled the point of his hook out of the wood.

"Regina would encourage it, I imagine, the Dark One as well," she looked contemplative, running her thumb over the cool metal curve. "There couldn't be much, this isn't really a natural environment for it. But my dear, simple pirate… I think you're forgetting something."

She yanked his hook until he was within inches of her. He had the height advantage, but as she placed her hand over his heart, the threat in the simple move was more than enough to stay him.

"If they have magic, then so do I."

"Now," She flashed her very white teeth in a grin more threat than reassurance, while her hand over his heart occupied itself by smoothing the lapel of his great coat. "Let's see what we're up against here, shall we?"

He was more relieved than he would ever admit when she released him. There's a reason he had not rebelled in the time they had spent stuck with the curse. He didn't take well to condescension or intimidation- he had worked damned hard as a young man to get his own ship, and tolerated neither from friend nor foe. But whatever his humble beginnings, he'd never been stupid.

If there was anything he had picked up from his hunt for revenge on the Crocodile, it was to never cross someone with magic. Or, if you did, for the love of God make sure you're out of their reach before they figure it out.

So, while he'd spent his share of evenings dreaming of new and exciting ways to pay Cora back for her arrogance, he had never raised hand nor hook in retaliation. No, he was a smart man- and a smart man could put self-preservation above his distaste for humility.

Still, he found it best not to ruin the reputation_._ With a smirk designed to chafe her pride, he feigning a courtly bow and gestured toward the port side of the ship.

"After you then, your highness."

Cora mostly ignored his posturing, striding to the side of the deck closest to Storybrooke. She shoved her skirts aside as she bent to the bucket Hook had overturned earlier. Wetting her hands in the dirty water puddled on the deck, she muttered quietly. Suddenly, her hands glowed with white flames. She stood, raising her flickering hands above her head.

"Oi," yelled Hook, as sparks snapped off her palms, "I would appreciate it if we could keep further damage to my ship to a minimum." He stood next to the grizzled first-mate at the helm, both of them staring transfixed and half-blinded at the twin lights.

Cora thrust her hands toward Storybrooke, and two trails of white light shot out over the water, burning through the mist. Not thirty feet from the ship, they hit something solid. With a flash, the lights flared and spread, briefly illuminating a massive barrier which extended from an arc surrounding Storybrooke Harbor, up over the town itself. The lights faded quickly, leaving the ship enshrouded with mist once more.

Hook blew out a breath. "Well, I suppose invisible iceberg would've been too much to ask for."

**a/n I don't actually have a writing buddy who has seen OUAT/would be interested in helping me prevent egregious typos/errors for this fic. If you or someone you know would be interested in beta-ing for me, that would be a huge help!**

**Please leave a review- I'd love to know what you think!**


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